The Harsh Light of Day
by Paperclippe
Summary: While Cloud and crew are searching for Sephiroth, they formulate a plan. Unbeknownst to them, Sephiroth has his OWN plan...which involves kidnapping, narcotics, and something even more sinister..


The Harsh Light of Day  
A fan fiction by Melissa Beall  
Based on characters from Final Fantasy VII  
  
Vincent Valentine stood away from the rest of his party in the middle of a vast field. The wind blew gently lifting soft strands of his shady midnight hair up and brought them to life, as though they were marionettes on invisible strings coming out for a brief show. The subtle movement gave him an almost godly appearance. Godly, and yet alone.  
Though he was, nay, had been a loner at heart, the varied company of these strange, new acquaintances had drawn him from his depression-induced slumber and had given him a sense of belonging. However, with Aerith's premature death but days behind them, the group had withdrawn to their own thoughts, leaving Vincent lost again. And the openness of this plane, as Cloud and Tifa wandered not too far ahead, reminded him just how empty the world could be.  
In his twenty-seven short years, this dark and mysterious man had partaken of more than his share of loss, of pain, of anguish and suffering. And here it was once more. Vincent had never been one for memories, yet often unfortunately and unwillingly found himself lost in them. So now, like times before, he experienced a blurring in his vision as a tear found its silent was down his pallid cheek, rolling before being absorbed by the high neck of the cloak around his face. He wiped his cheek and turned from Cloud and Tifa.  
Looking far into the misty horizon, he saw tall, grey snowcapped mountains standing proud as symbols of eternity. Strange was the word that came to Vincent. Strange that man should select such a creation to embody this representation when even the most gentle breeze, the briefest rainstorm helps to tear the mountain down in the end. Stranger still how this simplistic and common shape could inspire such thoughts into the human mind.  
"Vincent! Vincent! Over here!" he heard Cloud's call from several yards away. Though reluctant to turn he was, he did so, even though this simple motion seemed to take enormous amounts of physical and mental strength and eons of time. He slowly walked to where Cloud and Tifa stood, directing his vision to where Strife was pointing. "There," he muttered.  
As Vincent peered into the horizon, he saw a tall tower a fair distance away. Because of the space between them, Vincent could not calculate just how tall the structure was, but it was obviously enormous.  
"What is that?" he asked, his inherently soft baritone voice flowing from his lips like a waterfall. It was an appealing and classic voice, romantic, strong, and gratifying.  
"That's where Sephiroth is waiting. That's where he's going to bring down Meteor," Tifa informed.  
Sephiroth. The name pulled at strings and struck fear and anger into their very hearts. This was the man who had killed Aerith in cold blood. This was the man who wanted nothing less then to control the very planet. This was the man who would be a God. Stronger than an Ancient and intelligent beyond imagining, Sephiroth could do just about anything he very well wanted; unfortunately, he was also insane.  
"We have to get in there..." Cloud mumbled, brushing the hair on the top of his head with his fingers.  
"Yeah, and the sooner, the better, I say," Tifa remarked hotly.  
"No," Vincent said quietly, but everyone gave him their attention, "We should wait until tomorrow. Night will fall soon, and I guarantee he knows his way around. Darkness would only give him the upper hand," he stated, finishing with a knowledgeable bob of his head.  
A moment of silence passed between the trio, then Cloud spoke, "He's right, you know," and Tifa nodded.  
"So what do we do until then?" she asked solemnly. "We should get closer to those trees before we rest," Vincent pointed to a minute patch of thick forest about three hundred yards away.  
Unbeknownst to them, a man was hiding deep in the shadows of those very same trees. He had heard their plan and was now formulating one of his own.  
This Vincent was wise. Nightfall was coming and Sephiroth knew what he was doing.  
  
~*~  
  
Evening came and the sky painted itself shades of orange, violet, and red. Vincent stood before their makeshift camp, once again gazing into the scenery. His cape furled in the wind, blending in with the layered maroon of oncoming dark. Cloud and Tifa watched him with quiet wonder.  
Tifa pondered what he could he thinking to isolate himself in such fashion. She couldn't see his face, but she could imagine it: blank, expressionless, but with a thoughtful longing in those unnatural scarlet eyes that made him seem like he had all the answers. Tifa adored those eyes. They held the certain something she'd only ever beheld in the eyes of the Shin-Ra: that glowing, the infusion of Mako energy. It made even the harshest expression beautiful.  
Sephiroth too possessed this quality, but his beauty was difficult to see through the clouded hatred that burnt in Lockhart's soul. Even she had loved Aerith.  
As Vincent reproached the camp, shaking Tifa from her thoughts, Cloud stepped beside her. He was unsure of what to do with himself. Tifa was crying but looked unaware. She'd been doing that lately. It pained Cloud to see her break down.  
Valentine passed them and Tifa turned her face away from both he and Cloud. She wiped her tears away and looked at Strife.  
Shrugging, she muttered, "I don't want to do this anymore..."  
Cloud remained silent. He could think of nothing to respond with, nothing to ease her sorrow. He opened his mouth, but words failed him.  
Finally, after a few moments silence, Cloud embraced Tifa on a whim. She, without thought, returned the hug tightly. She pressed her face to his chest and continued to weep.  
"Cloud," she said, though her voice was muffled, "this is just too much."  
He looked down at the top of her head and replied, "Don't worry, it's all going to be over soon...don't worry," he sighed and kissed her soft brown hair. "Tif, it's going to be alright."  
She yanked away from him and ran at the tower in front of them. Picking up a rock from the ground she pitched it at the structure screaming, "Damn you, Sephiroth! God damn you! Damn you..." her furious cries slowly faded away into nothing as she realized it was fruitless. She slouched, shaking her head at herself.  
Cloud stayed where he stood as Tifa walked slowly back to him. She reached for his hand and took it gently. Her frown morphed into a sad, concerned look as Strife's shocking blue eyes gazed into her brown ones. One last tear slid down her face just before Cloud pressed his lips to Tifa's.  
Yards away, Vincent leaned up against a tree at the edge of the forest. He watched Tifa and Cloud kiss and embrace, and a longing grew for someone of his own to cherish, but now that was impossible. There were more pressing matters at hand - saving the world, for example.  
He sat down at the base of the tree and put his face in his hands, bored. Suddenly, there was a rustling in the forest behind him. He didn't think anything of it, until it happened again.  
Vincent turned his head slowly and asked, "Who's there?" A brief silence answered him, then, "Vincent..." It was soft, just a whisper, but it struck a threatened chord within Valentine.  
"Who's there?" Vincent said loudly to the trees.  
"Vin...cent..."  
He stood up quickly and faced the dark patch of forest. Cloud and Tifa seemed oblivious; they held each other still.  
Vincent drew his gun, pointing it skyward. Slowly checking systematically to the left, the back, and the right, he entered the woods. He heard the rustling again and spun to the side where the sound had come from.  
"What do you want?" Vincent shouted.  
"Vincent..." the sound came again, softer now.  
"Who are you?!" he spat, on the verge of screaming. There was no response this time. Valentine paused, then lowered his gun and looked around inquisitively. What was going on here?  
Sliding his gun back into its holster, he gave the forest one last shake of his head. Then he left, more mystified then when he'd entered.  
Standing outside the woods, Vincent looked up, wondering now if he'd actually heard anything of if the stress and all that came with it were finally getting to him.  
No. He had certainly heard something. The voice echoed, throbbed in his mind over and over. He could not have imagined such a thing. Giving a fleeting glance behind him, he eagerly left the trees in his wake.  
The sky now was as dark as the shady wood had made it seem. Vincent wanted to tell Cloud and Tifa of his anxieties, but he found them lying on the soft grass, both sleeping soundly. He turned his eyes on the moon, which was now nearly fully risen.  
But that couldn't be. When he'd gone into the forest, the sun was just setting. Now the moon was high in the sky? That would mean he'd have to have been in there for nearly -  
Four hours. Valentine stared down at his watch blankly. The small, silver hands gleaming in the moonlight told the time to be a quarter to twelve. How could that be? It wasn't possible. He'd been in there for four minutes, not hours.  
Vincent, as he often did in times like these, took to pacing as he sought some solace. Ordinarily, this paired with heavy thought brought a reasonable solution, or at least the assurance he wasn't going mad. Tonight, however, it provided neither. He sunk to the ground in disgust. Disgust, mostly with himself. He could come to no conclusion. The very thought threatened him. Vincent was a knowledgeable and logical man. Yet he did not know everything. This was something he had no solution for. The notion that worried him most, however, was that Sephiroth knew something he didn't.  
Vincent mentally kicked himself. Sephiroth had nothing to do with this. Nothing. Maybe he was losing his mind.  
He found himself once more gazing at the sleeping couple of Cloud and Tifa dreaming so soundly. He wondered if time had passed at a norm for them...most certainly so.  
The resting figures evoked another knowledge within Vincent. He was tired. But sleep? Would he risk it tonight? So close to Sephiroth...He had an animal feeling inside him that if he slept, terrible things might happen.  
Feeling the sudden need to pinch himself, Valentine reassured his mind once more that Sephiroth had no part in this and that nothing was going to happen. Not tonight, not ever. And after tomorrow, nothing as horrendous as this would ever happen again. They would do away with Sephiroth, halt Meteor, and the planet would be safe.  
All of this self-comforting took it out of Vincent, and now sleeping was no longer an option - it was a requirement. Without rest, he would never be able to function. Lying back on the green grass, he put his hands behind his head and looked dazedly at the stars. Within moments, he was asleep.  
  
~*~  
  
Sephiroth strode through the darkness, hands hanging limply at his sides. They swung gently with the motion of his paces. His face was an expression of pure determination. It was the expression of a man who got what he wanted. Tonight, Sephiroth planned to get what he wanted.  
Flowing behind him like a ghost, his long, silvery hair fluttered, catching the breeze when it blew. Tucking a smooth bang behind his ear, he paused for a moment. Looking to his left, then to his right, he smiled. It was no more than a slight lift in his eyes, his lips, but it was a smile nonetheless. Sephiroth continued walking.  
  
~*~  
  
He stared down at Cloud and Tifa with shimmering aqua eyes. Strife was a bastard. A treacherous bastard. Oh, how he would have loved to have bent down and ripped out Cloud's throat. But he knew he mustn't. He had to practice self-control. After all, it wasn't Cloud who Sephiroth was after this time, no. It was Vincent.  
Sephiroth was about to put into action a plan. It was crude and simple, but it was to the point. He removed a small hypodermic needle from his coat pocket. He approached Vincent as quietly as he could and knelt beside the sleeping man. Not able to admit it to himself no matter how much so he was, Sephiroth was frightened. It made the hairs on the back of his neck stand as small beads of sweat ran down his temple. He breathed in, out, and stuck the needle into Valentine's neck.  
Vincent shot straight up and opened his mouth to scream, but Sephiroth clapped a hand over Vincent's lips to silence him. Sephiroth injected Vincent with the contents of the syringe, a powerful sedative solution, just as Vincent reached for his pistol. Valentine's eyelids fluttered and the hand on the trigger went slack. His eyes rolled back in his head and he fell to the ground unconscious. His soft, black hair spread out behind him like a fan of shadow. He was so beautiful...  
Wait. No. Was Sephiroth going mad? Vincent was not beautiful! He was trying to kill Sephiroth! He was...he was...  
Sephiroth smacked his hand against his forehead and stood. He dusted himself off, then bent once more to lift the unconscious Valentine and flung him over his shoulder. Sephiroth flicked his moonlight-colored hair over the opposite shoulder and walked briskly back through the woods to the tower.  
  
~*~  
  
Vincent felt nauseous. He knew he couldn't be, but he felt as though he were standing, or at least vertical. The last and only thing he could remember was falling asleep...and then a sharp pain in his neck.  
He opened his eyes and expected to see Tifa and Cloud not too far away, forest behind him, sky above. The standing was probably just the remnants of a strange dream.  
It wasn't.  
Vincent was in a large room filled with nothing. It had no furniture, no carpet, nothing dressing the barren walls. The only thing that saved this room from being nothing more than an elaborate stone box was a big, no, massive window with no panes, only glass, which Vincent was facing directly. He could see that it was early morning, judging by the pale yellow light drifting across the floor.  
But the standing...a strange sensation in his wrists and ankles told him he wasn't standing at all. He was hanging.  
"Nnnh..." the weak sound issued from his mouth as a bout of questions flooded his mind. Where was he? Why was he here? Who had brought him here? And where was Cloud? And Tifa? And -  
"I see you're awake," a low, silken voice interrupted the pummeling questions. Vincent turned his head slowly, groggily, to see who it was.  
"Oh, dear God..." he uttered. Well, this answered at least one of his questions.  
Sephiroth.  
Valentine let his head fall limply onto his inclined shoulders and he sighed, "What do you want with me?" barely above a whisper.  
"Not much. I'm basically using you as bait," Sephiroth replied bluntly. "Your comrades should be coming for you soon enough...soon as they figure out where you are," he walked in front of Vincent.  
"They're not that stupid," Valentine stated, no change in his sluggish tone.  
"I'll let you decide that," Sephiroth said foully. He patted Vincent on the shoulder and walked away, leaving Vincent in his unfortunate position in the huge, lonesome room.  
The sun had risen higher now, a golden-yellow light pouring in. Vincent shut his eyes. He was much more fond of the night than the harsh light of day. For in the dark, you can hide away from everything, but light is prone to making people realize just where it all went wrong.  
Suddenly, through the mist of his thoughts, Vincent noticed that his head wrap was missing, as was his cloak - and his gun.  
"Damn it," he muttered softly. He breathed deeply. The feeling of sickness was falling away and being replaced by an empty hopelessness. Had he not been the in the position that he was, he would have broken down and cried. He did want to, but it was pointless. Sephiroth would not pity his tears.  
There was a burning hate fueled now with embarrassment deep inside Vincent. If he had still had his gun, assuming he could use his hands, he probably would have used it to kill himself. He was such a fool.  
That was when he remembered the thought he'd had just before he'd fallen asleep. He had told himself that if he rested, horrible things could happen - then he'd told himself that he was being paranoid! He should have known! He should have known. Vincent could have gone without sleep. Now, thanks to his weakness, he was chained to a wall.  
"I hate you," he said to himself, "I hate you."  
  
~*~  
  
It was nearly five hours before Sephiroth returned. Clad in nothing more than a loose pair of black pants, he leaned against the wall beside Valentine, twisting his silver hair between his thumb and forefinger, taunting Vincent with mindless questions.  
"You must be terribly hungry," said he. Valentine gave no response but did think, "Did you suppose?"  
Sephiroth answered the silence, "That's too bad. How long do you think it will take for Strife and that woman...Tifa...to find you?"  
Quiet.  
"If they don't come for you, you'll stay here until Meteor hits, unless, of course, you starve to death first," he said, and angry tone developing in his voice. Valentine refused to speak.  
"Vincent, Vincent, Vincent. Are you afraid? Afraid to die? Why do you not say anything?" Sephiroth crossed his bare arms and waited for a response, but Vincent stayed as he was: head down, eyes closed, silent.  
Sephiroth whipped around to face Vincent head on, grabbed Valentine by the hair, jerked up his head, and shouted through gritted teeth, "Answer me when I am talking to you!!"  
Vincent, still managing to look dazed though his scalp hurt tremendously, nonchalantly responded with a sigh.  
Still clutching the hair, Sephiroth shouted, "Vincent Valentine, you egotistical, disobedient son of a bitch."  
Vincent narrowed his eyes, "Let go of me."  
Sephiroth tightened the grip he had, pulling Vincent's hair more severely.  
"Let go of me!!" Vincent cried, squirming in his shackles. He scraped and twisted his wrists and only made Sephiroth's pull seem stronger.  
Then Sephiroth let go. He rolled his eyes and grinned widely. A sound began to emit from his partially closed lips. It was...laughter. Sephiroth was laughing. Insanely.  
"Oh, good God, Vincent!" Sephiroth managed to say through his fit, "Vincent, you are pathetic!" he stretched out pathetic like a curse.  
"Go to Hell!" Vincent spat at him angrily. Sephiroth was hugging his stomach with laughter.  
"God damn it, Seph!" Valentine shouted.  
Sephiroth paused immediately. "Seph..." he pronounced, mystified, "Seph.Why, I haven't been called that in years..." soft were his words as he spoke them like music. He appeared to be, on a strange level, touched.  
Sephiroth stepped over to Vincent, the sound of his gentle footfalls resounding on the stone floor. His head was cocked to one side and his lips were pursed. He looked slightly confused as he delicately ran a finger down Vincent's cheek. Valentine flinched before adopting a look twice as perplexed as Sephiroth's.  
Sephiroth pulled his hand back and before Valentine knew what was happening, he felt a searing pain shoot across the left side of his face. Sephiroth had slapped him.  
"Don't you ever call me by that name again!, you...you..." he died short of an insult, instead emitting a low, rumbling growl from his throat. Sephiroth began to pace.  
Vincent was confused. How could this name shake Sephiroth in such a way? It was but a word, an abbreviation, but it frustrated his captor so...  
"Sephiroth, what is the matter with you?" Vincent asked.  
"What is the matter with me? The matter is that I have someone like you calling me by that...that name!" Sephiroth shouted furiously, still pacing with great rapidity, but he threw his arms out to the sides every time he accentuated a word. He was huffing and panting and shouting and pacing all at the same time.  
Vincent decided that no matter how much pain or discomfort it would put him in, that he take advantage of this opportunity and would now be the one to taunt.  
"Seph..." he uttered, raspy, like a sudden yet deceptively quiet harsh breeze. Sephiroth approached Valentine at nearly a run and hit him one more, except this time it wasn't just a slap, it was a punch that hit more of Vincent's nose than the side of his face. So Vincent began to snicker. Sephiroth was terrified by the mere thought of this pet name.  
As Vincent was laughing, he watched Sephiroth's perturbed face. His nose was crinkled, eyes squinted, lips pouting. He was acting like a child.  
Then Valentine felt something sticky trickle down his upper lip. He licked it, and the copper-sweet taste told him it was his own blood. His nose was bleeding from the punch. He however, would not stop the torment.  
"Se-eph..." he sang melodically. He figured he was going to die in the end no matter what; he may as well have some fun.  
Sephiroth put another stabbing pain into Vincent, now on the opposite side of his face and he shouted, "Stop it! Just...stop it!"  
Valentine laughed ever harder, and Sephiroth landed a blow to his stomach by way of his knee.  
Vincent was winded temporarily, and he tossed his head back, gasping for air. When he looked down, Sephiroth was gone.  
"What..." he mouthed, but his eyes widened in place of his mouth when Sephiroth returned. With his sword.  
Vincent sucked in air quickly and murmured, "Oh, Lord."  
"You have no idea what you're doing, do you?" Sephiroth asked him, his voice disturbingly calm and level.  
Valentine's heart rate shot up as Sephiroth brought the sword's gleaming point near Vincent's face. Sephiroth was amazingly skilled with that blade. He would not have been at all surprised to see Sephiroth shave the legs off of a fly in midair. He was a dead man.  
However, instead of slicing Vincent into pieces, he ran the tip of the sword down the wall, engraving a line into the stone. Vincent looked down as far as he could and saw Sephiroth dragging the sword over the ankle cuff, a violinist playing his instrument, and the shackle slowly wore away. He was freeing Valentine! He watched Sephiroth carefully as he sawed the shackle. Sephiroth kept pushing his hair out of his face, but it would only fall back down again. He was sweating badly, probably still hot with rage, and small trickles of the salty water slid down his spine. The glinting sun shone on his body and hair, giving him a most unearthly glow. He seemed so innocent...so attractive...  
"Get a hold of yourself!" Vincent shouted loudly to his own mind.  
Sephiroth looked up at Valentine for just a moment with shimmering blue-green eyes, set in a state of indifferent curiosity before returning to his work. Vincent shook his head gently and leaned up against the wall. What was wrong with him?  
The vibrations he felt in his right foot told him Sephiroth had cut away one cuff and was now working on the other.  
Vincent shut his eyes and tried to clear his mind of any thoughts of Sephiroth, especially those that involved him dripping with sweat, glimmering in golden sunlight...and this wasn't helping.  
Sephiroth had sliced through both the ankle cuffs, leaving Vincent hanging by the shining alloy of his metallic left arm and the fragile bones in his right. Sephiroth sighed. Getting people down from these things was never easy...unless you didn't care whether or not it hurt them. Then it was no problem, really.  
He straightened up, stretched out his tiring muscles, and began to work on the left brace. He hoped to put all of six-foot-tall Vincent Valentine's weight on his fragile wrist. Glancing at Vincent, he smirked. Sure, he'd let Vincent down - after he begged. It would be a sight to see. He would beg, of course, had he any sense in his head. He would beg or his bones would break.  
There. The left cuff was done. Sephiroth let go of Vincent's elbow, which he had been leaning on and supporting Vincent's mass, and let him hang.  
Valentine's eyes went wide as Sephiroth backed away. It was only about two inches to the ground with his toes pointed, just daunting enough to instill fear, pain, and utter disbelief in him.  
"Sephiroth, what are you doing?" Vincent asked, shocked. Sephiroth sat down on the ground ten feet away from Valentine and watched him writhe and struggle. He clawed at the tiny pieces of brace left in the granite wall, but it was no use - they were too small and sharp, and cut his fingertips.  
Sephiroth smiled at Vincent, as he laid his sword on the floor by his side.  
"You know what your problem is, Vinnie?" he said, sickeningly cheerful, "You're far too trusting. I'm your mortal enemy, remember? I wouldn't let you down in a million years."  
"You bastard!" Vincent shouted. His voice cracked. He flailed his feet wildly. "God damn it, Sephiroth, let me down!" A tear slid down Valentine's face. He felt sick, like his stomach was lodged in his windpipe. The pain was horrible. He felt a snapping in his wrist as it became dislocated. He cried out in pain, giving Sephiroth the amusement and reaction he had hoped for.  
"I'll let you down," said Sephiroth calmly, "but only if you beg for mercy."  
"I will never!" Vincent declared boldly through his teeth.  
"Vince, you know you should.you know you want to," Sephiroth said. People in pain were so easy to manipulate, a practice with which Sephiroth was an expert.  
"Sephiroth..." Vincent's voice strained. He tried to touch his toes to the ground but to no avail.  
"Vincent, you want down, right?" Sephiroth said mock-sweetly. He drummed one hand's fingers against the other and bore down a stare on Valentine.  
Vincent just growled in response.  
"Now, now, Vinnie."  
Valentine kicked against the wall, disfiguring his wrist even more. He cried out in absolute hurt. He could no longer feel the tips of his fingers, but everything that was not numb was throbbing.  
"All you have to do is ask."  
"Sseee..." slid from between Vincent's lips.  
"Just ask."  
"Sephiro..." Vincent heard another popping noise and another bolt of pain hit him hard. "Oh, for the love of God, Sephiroth, please let me down! I'm begging!"  
Vincent was stunned. He couldn't believe that those words had just come his own mouth. Was he really that weak? Was he really that fragile?  
"Very good," Sephiroth said maniacally. He reproached Vincent with the sword and sawed off the last shackle. Vincent hit the floor on his knees. He was breathing hard and his heart was racing; every nerve in his body was on overdrive. He felt his wrist tenderly. Nothing was broken, amazingly, at least nothing major that wouldn't heal on his own. However, it was horribly out of place. He pushed it back and rolled it around on its axis a few times. He heard a clicking and assumed it was back in. It didn't stop the pain, though.  
It was only then that Vincent noticed Sephiroth hovering over him. Vincent stood up slowly and looked his captor in the eyes with an evil glare. Sephiroth stared back perfectly expressionless. He looked Vincent over from his feet up to his head, then down again. He blinked absentmindedly and walked away from Valentine, flipping the handle of his sword over in his hand.  
Vincent watched for a moment, then objected, "H-hey, no! Where the Hell are you going?" he said. "What the Hell was that?" he pointed to the wall where he'd hung. "Come back here!"  
Sephiroth continued walking. Vincent walked rapidly up to his side, but Sephiroth spun around and pushed Vincent in the chest with an open palm. "You will stay here while I am gone," he instructed.  
Vincent stood there and let Sephiroth leave.  
  
~*~  
  
Sitting on the floor, Vincent faced the huge window and nursed his still tender wrist. It was early evening now, and Sephiroth had not returned. Vincent was hungry and very thirsty, but he wouldn't dare leave this room. Sephiroth would kill him, he was sure. However, as the thought crossed his mind, he wasn't sure he had too much to live for at this point. He dispelled the thought from within him, as it only weakened his already feeble spirit that much more.  
So now he stared out the window, watching the sky change. The soft clouds had adopted a pinkish tone, a strange contrast to the darkening blue heavens. Just below the evening sky was the forest where he'd heard the voice. The voice...he'd entirely forgotten about that, and probably rightly so - he had been chained to a wall. Now, though, the thoughts came back in a rush. The strange passage of time and the voice... Had it been Sephiroth's doing? He did have the power to play mind games like no one else; Sephiroth's mental capacity was unfathomable. But what was the point? A laugh? Scaring the enemy to death?  
It was too much. Valentine's head was already aching and these thoughts of the supernatural did not help it. Tired and hungry, he picked himself up off of the floor and walked across the room, relocating himself in a darker corner where he slowly fell asleep.  
  
~*~  
  
Sephiroth returned to the room where he had left Vincent. It was dark now and Sephiroth carried with him a candle. He sighed as he looked at the paraphernalia he was bringing to Valentine: a small jug of water, two pink, nearly ripened apples, and his hostage's cape. In a brief moment of insanity, Sephiroth had decided his prisoner would need these things if he were to be of any use.  
Entering the room where Vincent had so submissively remained throughout the entire day, he saw the man sleeping, curled in the corner. Oh, well. At least now there would be no ugly confrontation and, most thankfully, no questions.  
Sephiroth set the water and apples down a fair distance away from Vincent so that he would not kick them over during sleep. Here also he placed the candle. He flicked the long cape above Valentine and let it fall on the resting one like a blanket. Slowly he sat down next to Vincent. His eyes wandered around the room, finally settling on Vincent's face. The candle flickered gently in some imaginary breeze, casting dancing light all around his sleeping form.  
Sephiroth could not deny the fact that Vincent was handsome, extraordinarily so considering all he had been through. His face was smooth and his hair was soft and shiny and the purest black that no dye could mimic. This beauty was strikingly obvious now that he was not screaming and spitting at Sephiroth like a wild animal, caged but once. And Vincent did have a fire inside, deep within him that he rarely showed, giving Sephiroth but a taste of his hidden powers.  
Glancing out at the faultless night sky, Sephiroth saw a crisp portrait of the scenery. Not a cloud lingered in the vast space above and the heavens looked like dark, treacherous ice and cold seemed to penetrate the room.  
The pristine landscape invoked in him a curious anger. It was an absolute perfection he would never be able to achieve; quite the contrary - he seemed to be slipping farther and farther away from perfection with every subtly flawed movement he made.  
Sephiroth was sinking into a deep depression. Everything he did disappointed him. He found, though he tried, he had nearly no control of his own emotions. It disturbed him terribly, that he could be so strong and have so little power over his own being.  
He sighed heavily and turned his face back to Vincent, who looked so sad with his dark hair falling around his face and the mysterious candlelight flickering. It was a shady sorrow that this man carried with him. It wrapped itself in the shadows, this feeling, and made everything seem a little stranger, a little more foreign.  
Sephiroth embraced himself as the darkness began to seep into him, making him feel cold. He died to be warm under that cape...embracing Vincent's tender yet tough body...kissing his lips, his face, his neck...  
No, no, no! What was coming over him? This...this...  
He was on the verge of screaming, when a soft sigh emitted from Valentine. It quelled Sephiroth's rage, his confusion with that one simple sound.  
"Vince..." was the word that replaced the scream.  
A strand of hair fell into Vincent's calm face. Sephiroth leaned over slowly and brushed the tress away, securing it behind Valentine's ear. Sephiroth spread his strong fingers on the side of the sleeping man's face, cupping Vincent's cheek in the palm of his hand. He ran his thumb slowly along the supple skin of his face, leaning toward him just a little further. Suddenly, he jerked back.  
"What am I doing?!" he thought to himself. "This is madness! Vincent is..."  
Sephiroth stood up and quickly walked to the other side of the room, yanking hard on his silver hair. He growled through his teeth, furious with himself. He stomped to the window and pressed his weathered hands against the cool glass. He was frustrated. Not knowing what to do with himself, he walked back over to Valentine and, sitting beside him once more, he pouted.  
"Only midnight..." he sighed. He still had a full seven hours before daylight might bring him some peace.  
Vincent muttered something unintelligible through his sleep, and then rolled over to face the other wall, away from Sephiroth. Sephiroth put his face in his hands. He wanted to wake Vincent and ask him what he was dreaming about. He wanted to wake him and tell him how confused he was. He wanted to wake him just so he would have some company. So, after thinking about it, he did.  
He leaned over and tapped Vincent on the shoulder. Valentine shrugged away the touch.  
"Vince?" Sephiroth uttered.  
Vincent rolled back to Sephiroth, still in a half-sleep state and murmured, "Wha, Sehh..." Vincent's eyelids slowly opened, and the moment those deep, scarlet eyes made themselves known, Sephiroth had this strange, insatiable desire to...  
Sephiroth swept Vincent into his arms and pushed his lips against Valentine's. After a millisecond of shock, Vincent whipped off his cape and shoved Sephiroth away roughly, pushing himself as far up against the opposite wall as he could.  
"H-how...what? What the Hell, Sephiroth?!" he shouted at him, wiping his lips violently. He was fully awake, now, and nothing would send him back to sleep for a long while.  
Sephiroth had no idea what had come over him. He stuttered out several syllables, but no whole words were formed. He was so confused, so baffled...what on earth had possessed him to...to...Sephiroth limbs fell slack and he nearly fainted from shock, sliding down the wall and landing horizontal on the floor with his hands covering his face in shame.  
"I...don't know..." he sighed out at last.  
Vincent stood up slowly, his eyes wide, and approached Sephiroth. He was speechless. What had just happened to Sephiroth? What had made him...  
Sephiroth sat back up and just stayed, looking helpless.  
"Sephiroth..." Vincent said quietly, sitting at Sephiroth's side, "what is the matter with you?"  
Sephiroth narrowed his eyes in aversion and turned his head away.  
"No, Sephiroth, I'm serious."  
Sephiroth was slow to respond. He kept his head turned, but by subtle movements that he made, he appeared to be thinking of some kind of suitable response for his action...some valid explanation. When he finally did speak, it sounded painfully choked.  
"I think I..."  
He turned his head back to face Vincent. His face was wet, his eyes were red - Sephiroth was crying. Valentine recalled lore he had caught, even from in his tomb...No one had ever seen Sephiroth cry. Now he saw that he was at least capable of this all too human act. So Vincent was slightly taken aback by this emotional display, and he now saw that the mighty Sephiroth had acted upon sheer feeling. He looked so hurt, so incredibly bruised sitting there, small streams on his face.  
Vincent reached out slowly, carefully, and soothingly grasped one of Sephiroth's hands in his own. He was so cold, so painfully chilled from the inside out. An emotion came over Vincent in a wash, something akin to what Sephiroth had felt. Valentine wanted to ease Sephiroth's pain, quell his inner conflict; he wanted to see Sephiroth contented. Vincent raised the hand that he held and kissed the tips of crying man's fingers, and he looked deep into the aquamarine eyes.  
"Vincent..." Sephiroth breathed quietly.  
Valentine extended his other arm, resting his faux limb lovingly on Sephiroth's shoulder. He flinched under Vincent's touch.  
"It's alright, Seph..." but the pet name only brought more tears to Sephiroth's eyes. "What is it? What is it about that name?" Vincent asked, his voice soothing and calm.  
"I...it was...Gast...and then...Cetra...and..." he sputtered sadly, and he bit his bottom lip as a sign to himself to cease his blather. And here Vincent had used the name as a taunt. He felt so shallow, so cruel, but as much as it hurt Vincent in recoil, it must have hurt Sephiroth so much more.  
"I'm...so sorry," Vincent whispered apologetically, though his words fell exceedingly short of how much he wanted to take it back. So it was he who leaned toward the other this time and initiated the kiss. Neither pulled away, instead embracing each other. Sephiroth's fingers clutched the fabric of the back of Vincent's shirt desperately, the thick cloth brush-burning the tips of his fingers.  
Vincent's tongue caressed Sephiroth's calmingly, soothingly, and neither of the two ever wanted to stop.  
By the sheer weight pressed upon him, Vincent had been worked as far back into the corner as his body could go, enabling him to use his legs for a different purpose - to tangle around Sephiroth. His fingers entwined themselves easily in Sephiroth's silky, straight hair. They played with the strands of silver absentmindedly while his lips were busy with other things.  
Slowly Sephiroth pulled away, but only slightly, so that the tips of their noses and lips still touched. They were both panting heavily, sharing one another's breath, and Sephiroth was no longer weeping. Vincent stroked the back of Sephiroth's hair, a steady, assuring touch.  
Sephiroth showed his gratitude by affectionately rubbing his cheek against Vincent's, then resting his head on Valentine's shoulder. Sephiroth kissed his hostage's neck softly, and Vincent whispered words of reassurance to the powerful, fragile breakdown in his arms.  
The silver-haired man sat up, pulled himself away from Vincent, but still held his hand tightly; he still needed something of an anchor.  
He swallowed, making sure his voice was steady, and asked, "What does this mean, Vincent?"  
Valentine bit the inside of his bottom lip and mumbled, "I don't know." He bent his head forward and let his sleek hair cover his face like a veil. Sephiroth reached out as he had before and tucked the black hair back.  
Sephiroth sighed in and out shakily and said, "I might...I mean...What if I think..."  
Vincent pressed a long, willowy finger to Sephiroth's thin lips and said, "I know. Me too."  
"Does that mean..."  
"...You want to?"  
"You want to?"  
"Uh-huh."  
"Then..."  
"Yeah."  
Sephiroth leaned into Vincent once more, and they embraced wordlessly. Sephiroth's fingers played without thought on the exposed flesh of Vincent's arm, then up the sleeve, then onto the chest, finally working to undo the double-row of gold buttons that descended the front of the black shirt on Vincent's body.  
Sephiroth gently separated the fabric, revealing the pale, gaunt flesh of Valentine's chest. His ribs stuck out horribly as though he'd not eaten in months. Sephiroth saw this and asked, "Don't you have any food?"  
Valentine shook his head as his closet full of skeletons swung open, "It's not that...it was...the surgery...the shot..."  
Sephiroth gave Vincent a look of complete and whole understanding laden with sympathy, but Vincent only lowered his eyes.  
Then Sephiroth nestled the malformed ribcage, tickling it with his lips and tongue, making Valentine inhale sharply. Sephiroth nuzzled his chest, pressing his mouth occasionally against the flesh to make Vincent sigh.  
Momentarily he re-fixated on the neck, Sephiroth then completely removed Vincent's shirt. Slowly moving to Valentine's collarbone, he sucked and bit the skin gently, Vincent's back arching slightly.  
Then, making his way to the firm, taught nipples, Sephiroth kissed firmly against the skin. Vincent moaned ever so softly. He took his hands away from Sephiroth and used them to brace himself, his palms flat against the floor. Sephiroth smiled a sideways smirk with the discovery of his new source of power. Overcome with the sense of having all of his force back, Sephiroth shoved Vincent to the ground and lay on top of him, pinning Valentine's arms down and kissing his mouth roughly.  
But Vincent wouldn't stand for this. In a burst of strength he did not know he had, Vincent broke free of Sephiroth's arm-pin, grasped his shoulders, and forced his captor to the ground. Sephiroth's eyes were wide with shock as the seemingly frail Vincent proved himself to be not so, sitting on Sephiroth's chest, one leg on either side of his body. Vincent had out-muscled Sephiroth.  
However, he did not stay in that position for long, no. Instead, he slid himself down Sephiroth's body, finally stopping so he could unbutton the waist of Sephiroth's pants with slender fingers. Vincent pressed his lips to Sephiroth's navel, lower abdomen, and finally -  
Sephiroth gasped out of stun and delight as Valentine's mouth found its way to Sephiroth's member. His back curved and he moaned a few incoherent words as Vincent massaged the shaft with his tongue. Sephiroth balled his fists, his fingernails cutting into the palms of his hands. His aqua eyes were shut, his eyebrows were raised, and his lips were pursed cautiously so that he would not accidentally bite down during this period of ecstasy.  
Vincent sucked the head gently, making Sephiroth moan and cry for more. Valentine grabbed Sephiroth's hips, rubbing them in rhythm of his pulling. He moved his lips up and down over the long, hard shaft, feeling the power he held over Sephiroth that he could not otherwise have.  
Sephiroth felt a swelling at the base of his shaft and he held his breath, anticipating his release. Vincent sensed Sephiroth drawing close to climax and he began to massage Sephiroth with the sides of his mouth as well as his tongue. Sephiroth let out small voiced gasps, and then bit down hard on his bottom lip, letting Valentine continue to please him, but not for much longer.  
Sharply gasping one loud, final breath, Sephiroth came. The hot fluid spilled quickly into Vincent's mouth and he swallowed it hungrily, the salty juice sweet to him as he thought of how helpless Sephiroth had been.  
Consuming the last few drops, Vincent released Sephiroth's member from his mouth. Sephiroth hastily jerked Vincent to even their eye level and kissed him violently, biting and drinking the blood, tasting his own fluids in his mouth.  
Vincent jerked his head back, lips bleeding from Sephiroth's malicious kisses. Breathing heavily, Valentine hung his head, watching the thick red liquid drip to the floor.  
"Sehh...Sephiroth..." Vincent sighed, and then, breathing in, inhaled blood. Vincent shook his head, leaning up against the wall once more. Sephiroth fastened his pants and stood up, handing Valentine back his cape and shirt.  
"Goodnight, Vincent," Sephiroth said, stretching, "sleep well," and with that, the silver-haired man lifted the now burnt-down candle from the apples and water, and uneventfully walked away.  
Vincent sat there in the yet darker room, trying to blink away his confusion. He suddenly felt emotionally exposed. Had Sephiroth only used him? Was it all just a game, an act? The feeling of betrayal washed around him like dirty seawater. His shirt and cape in his lap, Valentine drew up his legs and held them there by wrapping his arms around them, a child hiding from the dark. Raven hair spilling over his shoulders, Vincent sighed and tried to force himself to sleep. He would rather suffer nightmares than think these thoughts any longer.  
Sephiroth, however, was now in no better shape. Sprawled across the severely worn-in bed, he rung his fists over and over. What had he just done? What could he have possibly been thinking to divulge his torn and broken soul like that? He had shown the enemy weakness, and then he had.  
What if someone found out? It would go beyond humiliation, total embarrassment, sneers...it could kill him. That mustn't ever happen. This must be kept an eternal secret. But how?  
And with that as his last coherent thought, Sephiroth handed himself over to sub-consciousness.  
  
~*~  
  
Awakening the next morning, Sephiroth felt strangely empowered. The answer to his query had come to him in his sleep. With a smile, he got out of bed and took the last item he had confiscated from Vincent off of the floor. It felt good in his hand.  
He exited the bedroom and sauntered down the long hall leading to Valentine. Vincent was awake, sitting on the floor, staring out the window. Sephiroth was pleased that he need not rouse him.  
"Good morning," Sephiroth chimed. Vincent turned his head to see his captor and his eyes grew wide with what he saw Sephiroth had in his hand.  
Sephiroth pointed the item at the captured man and, with Vincent Valentine's own gun, Sephiroth shot the man dead.  
  
~*The End*~ 


End file.
